


Feyre get's drunk, Rhys has to take care of her

by sarah_bae_maas



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, drunk! feyre, feysand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_bae_maas/pseuds/sarah_bae_maas
Summary: Originally posted September 19th, 2016.





	Feyre get's drunk, Rhys has to take care of her

Feyre Archeron can say with 100 percent certainty that she hasn’t been drunk since she escaped from Under the Mountain.

She has taken care of plenty drunk people, namely her mate and his cousin, and personally she doesn’t see the appeal. Is the supposed fun really worth the hours of vomiting and dizziness that happens after it? The times that she has been intoxicated was when she was human, and she can barely remember the nights when Rhys would make her drink so that she could black out the horrors surrounding her.

These thoughts were running through her head and she sat next to Amren at Rita’s, watching her friends dance and laugh and drink, wishing she could be a part of it. Surely a few drinks wouldn’t matter… wouldn’t be enough for her to feel its full effects. Maybe with only a few drinks it would mean that she could have a good time without spewing her guts up in the morning.

With this in mind, she yelled out Cassian’s name and gestured for him to come over.

“Yes, High Lady?” His words were drawn out, bordering on slurring, and Feyre knew she had summoned the right person.

“Cassian, which one of these drinks will get me drunk the quickest?” She asked innocently.

Cassian’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but wordlessly he ordered the barmaid to bring them something.

A woman brought them two small drinks, and Feyre questioned if she did ask the right person.   

“Drink up, buttercup.” Cassian said in a sing-song voice. Perhaps his own inebriation has made him incapable of good decision.

Either way, Feyre picked up one of the shots and drunk it down, sputtering at the fire that burned down her throat.

Coughing and sputtering, Feyre asked Cassian if he was going to have his. A devilish smile crossed him face, and he answered that they were both for her.

——-

Feyre was drunk.

She danced around the room, twirling and spinning with Mor.

“This is so much fun!” Feyre shouted over the music.

Mor just squealed in return.

Both women had been doing this for over an hour, to the delight of Rhys, Azriel and Cassian, who were quite enjoying watching the females make… well, fools of themselves.

“Should we tell Feyre that she should stop drinking the pepper shots?” Cassian laughed. Although Cassian was laughing at the two women’s drunkenness, he himself had to lean heavily on his brother to stand upright.

“Is that what she’s been drinking?” Rhys asked.

Pepper whiskey was… not to be drunk by inexperienced drinkers. Rhys remembered his first time drinking it and blanched at the blurry memory of him of him hitting on Amren. Thank the cauldron she had just laughed in his face and not gutted him for his insolence.

“Yeah, she’s had about eight shots of it by now.” Cassian laughed.

Azriel and Rhys turned to each to each other in concern. The recommended amount was no more than two shots, maybe three if you knew you would handle your liquor, which Feyre most _definitely_ could not.  Rhys believed that the only reason she was still standing upright was because the alcohol hadn’t quite hit her.

Just as he was thinking this, he saw Feyre stumble away from Mor, and start to fall backward. Instantly he winnowed behind her, catching her in his arms and then wrapping them around her.

She just giggled and squeezed his arms so that he would loosen his grip on her. Rather than stepping away from him and back towards Mor like he expected her to, she wiggled so that she was facing him and she could wrap her arms around his neck.

She pushed he body up against his and tangled one of her hands in his hair.

“Helllloooooooo,” She purred, or tried to, in his ear.

Rhysand couldn’t help but smirk at his intoxicated mate. “Hello, Feyre Darling,”

Feyre let out a content hum at him calling her by her favourite nickname.

“Are you having fun?” He asked.

Feyre only nodded, before she started pressing kisses to any piece of exposed skin she could reach. Eventually she settled on sucking and biting the space where his shoulder met his. Delight ran through Rhys at her actions, but he subtly tried to pry her off anyway. Any other time he would have welcomed the attention, but not when they were in a room full of people and his wife was smashed.

Feyre whined at the loss of contact, and pouted up at Rhys. “Why did you do that?”

“Maybe we could continue at home…” He said as he licked up the column of her neck.

Feyre smirked and nodded eagerly, waving to their friends in a goodbye before trying, and failing, to drag the High Lord away.

Instead she stumbled again, Rhys having to sweep her up in his arms and carry her back to the house.

——-

They did not continue.

Not that Rhys ever planned to while Feyre was in this state (he just wanted an excuse for her to come home with him), but her vomiting all over his shirt as they walked through the front door would’ve effectively turned him off well and good anyway.

Now they were both in the bathroom, Rhys holding back Feyre’s hair and rubbing smooth circles on her back.

He had managed to get her out of her dress before the worst of it started, and he had already discarded his vomit covered shirt. Feyre refused any new clothing, as the pepper whiskey that raced through her shook her and made sweat break out all over her body.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.” Feyre said in a small voice to her husband. Tears lined her eyes, and as she saw the look of sympathy on Rhys’s face they spilt onto her cheeks.

“You have nothing to apolo-”

He was interrupted by another round of Feyre retching into their toilet.

“It’s okay darling, it’ll be over soon.” Rhys was lying off course, and both he and Feyre knew it. It would be hours until she got the overwhelming amount of alcohol out of her system.

“I did some weird shit tonight.” Feyre confessed.

She moved to lie down on the floor. She sprawled herself out do that as much skin as possible was touching the cool tiles and her head was resting in Rhys’s lap.

“I know.” He started brushing her matted hair out of her face.

“I think I told Mor that if you weren’t my mate she’d be my second preference.”

Rhys snorted and tried to contain any further laughter. The more he laughed, the more he shook his mate by default, and that’s really not what she needs right now.

“The weirdest thing is she replied by saying Azriel’s a surprisingly kinky guy, and he’d probably be into it.”

Rhys burst into uncontrolled laughter, to the point where he had to move away from Feyre, apologizing through his snickers.

She smiled gently at him, and reached out to entwine their fingers. “I’m never drinking anything Cassian gives to me again.”

“That’s probably the smartest thing to do.”

“I’m also never getting drunk again. I was right; the fun isn’t worth the pain.”


End file.
